WHRDs are self-identified women and lesbian, bisexual, transgender, queer and intersex (LBTQI) people and others who defend rights and are subject to gender-specific risks and threats due to their human rights work and/or as a direct consequence of their gender identity or sexual orientation.
WHRDs are subject to systematic violence and discrimination due to their identities and unyielding struggles for rights, equality and justice.
The WHRD Program collaborates with international and regional partners as well as the AWID membership to raise awareness about these risks and threats, advocate for feminist and holistic measures of protection and safety, and actively promote a culture of self-care and collective well being in our movements.
Risks and threats targeting WHRDs
WHRDs are exposed to the same types of risks that all other defenders who defend human rights, communities, and the environment face. However, they are also exposed to gender-based violence and gender-specific risks because they challenge existing gender norms within their communities and societies.
By defending rights, WHRDs are at risk of:
Physical assault and death
Intimidation and harassment, including in online spaces
Judicial harassment and criminalization
Burnout
A collaborative, holistic approach to safety
We work collaboratively with international and regional networks and our membership
to raise awareness about human rights abuses and violations against WHRDs and the systemic violence and discrimination they experience
to strengthen protection mechanisms and ensure more effective and timely responses to WHRDs at risk
We work to promote a holistic approach to protection which includes:
emphasizing the importance of self-care and collective well being, and recognizing that what care and wellbeing mean may differ across cultures
documenting the violations targeting WHRDs using a feminist intersectional perspective;
promoting the social recognition and celebration of the work and resilience of WHRDs ; and
building civic spaces that are conducive to dismantling structural inequalities without restrictions or obstacles
Our Actions
We aim to contribute to a safer world for WHRDs, their families and communities. We believe that action for rights and justice should not put WHRDs at risk; it should be appreciated and celebrated.
Promoting collaboration and coordination among human rights and women’s rights organizations at the international level to strengthen responses concerning safety and wellbeing of WHRDs.
Supporting regional networks of WHRDs and their organizations, such as the Mesoamerican Initiative for WHRDs and the WHRD Middle East and North Africa Coalition, in promoting and strengthening collective action for protection - emphasizing the establishment of solidarity and protection networks, the promotion of self-care, and advocacy and mobilization for the safety of WHRDs;
Increasing the visibility and recognition of WHRDs and their struggles, as well as the risks that they encounter by documenting the attacks that they face, and researching, producing, and disseminating information on their struggles, strategies, and challenges:
Mobilizing urgent responses of international solidarity for WHRDs at risk through our international and regional networks, and our active membership.
Related Content
¿Por qué AWID eligió Taipéi como sede del Foro?
AWID dedicó casi dos años al trabajo de identificar una sede para el Foro en la región Asia-Pacífico (la ubicación del Foro rota entre las distintas regiones).
Sobre la base de una investigación documental inicial y de consultas con aliadxs (que nos llevaron a eliminar muchas otras opciones de la región), organizamos una serie de visitas exhaustivas a Nepal, Malasia, Sri Lanka, Tailandia, Indonesia y, más tarde, Taiwán.
Cada visita incluyó, no solo la evaluación de la infraestructura logística, sino también encuentros con grupos y activistas feministas locales para entender mejor el contexto y conocer su percepción de las oportunidades y los riesgos potenciales de organizar un Foro de AWID en sus contextos.
En nuestras visitas encontramos movimientos feministas locales impresionantemente vibrantes y diversos.
Estos movimientos expresaron, en varias ocasiones, sentimientos encontrados respecto de las oportunidades y los riesgos que podría acarrearles la visibilidad de un evento como el Foro. En una de las visitas, durante los primeros treinta minutos de la reunión, escuchamos a lxs activistas presentes decir, en forma unánime, que un Foro de AWID sufriría una enorme reacción, que los derechos LGBTQ son un asunto particularmente candente, y que los grupos fundamentalistas aparecerían con toda su fuerza a interrumpir el evento.
Cuando respondimos, «De acuerdo, entonces ustedes no creen que sea una buena idea», nuevamente la respuesta unánime fue «Por supuesto que es una buena idea, ¡queremos cambiar la narrativa!». En algunos de estos lugares nos resultó difícil oír y ver que muchxs activistas feministas querían aprovechar la oportunidad de un evento grande y visible, y que estaban preparadxs a enfrentar los riesgos locales; pero nuestras consideraciones, como anfitrionxs de casi dos mil personas de todo el mundo, nos imponen un cálculo distinto del riesgo y la factibilidad.
También tuvimos que analizar qué significa organizar un foro feminista que a sea coherente con los principios de inclusión, reciprocidad y autodeterminación, en aquellos casos en que la política y la práctica de Estado son, en general, contrarias a estos principios (aunque lxs funcionarixs de los ministerios de turismo hayan trabajado arduamente para atenuar estas características).
Sopesamos las consideraciones de infraestructura con la oportunidad potencial de impulsar algunas agendas feministas a nivel nacional, y el contexto político nacional.
En muchos de estos lugares, monitorear el contexto nos resultó un ejercicio pendular: de un momento abierto y seguro para los debates feministas podíamos pasar a otro de brutal represión y xenofobia, capaz de sacrificar las prioridades feministas como piezas de negociación política para tranquilizar a las fuerzas antiderechos del ala derechista.
El proceso ha sido una reflexión aleccionadora sobre el contexto increíblemente complicado para el activismo por los derechos de las mujeres y la justicia de género en todo el mundo.
Nuestras dificultades en la región Asia-Pacífico nos llevaron a preguntarnos si no sería más fácil mover el Foro a una región distinta. Sin embargo, hoy en día no podríamos organizar un Foro de AWID en Estambul como lo hicimos en 2012, ni podríamos hacerlo en Brasil como lo hicimos en 2016.
Teniendo en cuenta toda esta complejidad, AWID seleccionó Taipéi como ubicación para el Foro porque:
ofrece un cierto grado de estabilidad y seguridad para la diversidad de participantes que convocamos al Foro;
tiene también un alto nivel de capacidad logística, y resulta accesible para muchxs viajerxs (con la facilitación de un trámite de visa electrónico para conferencias internacionales); y
el Foro es bien recibido por el movimiento feminista local, que está muy interesado en interactuar con feministas de todo el mundo.
Al organizar el Foro de AWID, estamos tratando de construir y sostener, de la mejor manera posible, un espacio para las diversas expresiones de solidaridad, indignación, esperanza e inspiración que son el núcleo de los movimientos feministas.
En este momento, creemos que Taipéi es la sede, dentro de la región Asia-Pacífico, que mejor nos permitirá construir ese espacio seguro y rebelde para nuestra comunidad feminista global.
De hecho, en el mundo contemporáneo no existe una ubicación ideal para un Foro centrado en las Realidades Feministas. Donde sea que vayamos, ¡debemos construir ese espacio juntxs!
“I want to tell all Tunisians: We have to unite to say no to censorship and opinion trials.” - Lina Ben Mhenni (2013 interview)
Lina Ben Mhenni was a Tunisian blogger, activist and linguistics lecturer. She was vocal against internet censorship, defended the freedom of expression and was an advocate for women’s and human rights. Lina also fought for the release of students arrested under former President Zine El Abidine.
“It’s true that information and the internet are important but being on the ground is crucial for a revolution. Some people here in Tunisia think that change can occur just by clicking like on the internet. I believe you have to be active on the ground. And of course, join actions on the field with the action on the web.” - Lina Ben Mhenni (Interview in POCIT)
In 2010, she co-organized a protest that challenged the government suppression of media and internet censorship. Lina was widely known for her blog “A Tunisian Girl” and recognized for her work during the Tunisian revolution in 2011. In her blog, she reported on the news from the uprising, shared images documenting protests and was among the few voices who spoke about the killings and crackdown on protesters in Sidi Bouzid. Lina blogged using her real name instead of a pseudonym to protect her identity, one of only a few bloggers to do so.
“Our freedom of expression is in real danger. I am afraid that we are losing the unique fruits of the revolution: the disappearance of fear and our freedom of speech. We have to keep on fighting to protect and preserve this right.” — Lina Ben Mhenni (2013 interview)
Lina was only 36 years old when she passed away on 27 January 2020, as a result of complications from an autoimmune disease.
"Freedom, better education and health - that's all we wanted. When we failed, she pushed us." Lina’s school teacher Hala.
When you do a search for “Female Genital Mutilation” or “FGM” online, an image of four line-drawings of the female anatomy pop up next to its Wikipedia entry. It illustrates four types of violence. The first being a partial cut to the clitoris. The second, a more invasive cut with the entire clitoris removed. The third is progressively worse with the removal of the clitoris, labia majora and minora. And the fourth box illustrates a series of hash marks to symbolize stitches over the vaginal opening to allow only for urination and menstruation.
As a survivor of FGM, most questions about my story fixate on the physical. The first question I usually get asked is what type of FGM I underwent. When I told a journalist once that I went through Type 1, she said “oh, that’s not so bad. It’s not like type three which is far worse.” She was technically right. I had the least invasive form. And for many years, I gaslighted myself into feeling a sense of relief that I was one of the lucky ones. I comforted myself noting that I could have been less fortunate with all of my genitalia gouged out, not just the clitoral tip. Or worse I could have been one of the ones who didn’t survive at all. Like Nada Hassan Abdel-Maqsoud, a twelve year old, who bled to death on a doctor’s operating table earlier this year in Upper Egypt. Nada is a reminder to me that for every data point -- 200 million women and girls who live with the consequences of FGM globally -- there is a story. Nada will never be able to tell hers.
As much as I find the label “survivor” suffocating at times -- I also realize there is privilege embedded in the word. By surviving, you are alive. You have the ability to tell your story, process the trauma, activate others in your community and gain insights and a new language and lens to see yourself through.
The act of storytelling can be cathartic and liberating, but it can also shatter the storyteller in the process.
Without integrating the psychosocial support of trained clinicians into storytelling and healing retreats, well-intentioned interventions can result in more trauma. This is all the more important as FGM survivors navigate the double pandemic of their own PTSD from childhood trauma, and the indefinite COVID-19 global shutdown.
In many anti-FGM advocacy spaces, I have seen this insatiable hunger to unearth stories -- whatever the cost to the storyteller. The stories help activate funding and serve as a data point
for measuring impact.
Survivor stories then become commodities fueling a storytelling industrial complex. Storytellers, if not provided proper mental health support in the process, can become collateral damage.
My motivation in writing this piece is to flip the script on how we view FGM survivors, prioritizing the storyteller over the story itself.
FGM survivors are more than the four boxes describing how the pieces of our anatomy were cut, pricked, carved, or gouged out. In this essay, I’ll break down the anatomy of an FGM survivor’s story into four parts: stories that break, stories that remake, stories that heal, and stories that reveal.
Type 1: Stories that break
I was sitting in the heart of Appalachia with a group of FGM survivors, meeting many for the first time. As they shared their traumas, I realized we all belonged in some way or another to the same unenviable club. A white Christian survivor from Kentucky - who I don’t think I would have ever met if we didn’t have FGM survivorship connecting us - told the contours of her story.
There were so many parallels. We were both cut at seven. She was bribed with cake after her cut. I was bribed with a jumbo-sized Toblerone chocolate bar when mine was over. Absorbing her trauma overwhelmed me. And I imagine when I shared my story, others in the circle may also have been silently unraveling. We didn’t have a clinician or mental health professional in a facilitation role and that absence was felt. The first night, I was sharing a room with six other survivors and tried hard to keep the sounds of my own tears muffled. By the last day, I reached breaking point. Before leaving for the airport, my stomach contracted and I convulsively vomited. I felt like I was purging not only my pain, but the pain of the others I’d absorbed that week. We all dutifully produced our stories into 90 second social media friendly soundbites with narration and photos. But at what cost?
Type 2: Stories that remake
On February 6, 2016, the Guardian published my story as a survivor. The second it was released, I was remade. My identity transformed from nondescript, relatively invisible mid-level Foreign Service Officer to FGM survivor under a public microscope. That same day, then-U.S. Ambassador to the United Nations Samantha Power tweeted my story with the introduction: “I was seven years old” before linking to the article. The tweet symbolized a moment for me where my personal and professional worlds collided. Since then, they have been forever intertwined.
Even though I spent ten years of my career as a diplomat focused on other issues -- I lived in Cairo during the early days of the Arab Spring in 2011 and served in Baghdad and Erbil when the Syrian revolution turned from an uprising to civil war -- all of those past experiences that began to make mefeel erased. When I spoke on panels, my identity would be reduced to “survivor.” Like other survivors, I have worked hard to rewrite the script on how others see me.
I reinsert pieces of my other identities when speaking to underscore to the broader public that while yes, I am a survivor of childhood trauma and while my FGM story may have remade a part of my identity, it doesn’t define me.
Type 3: Stories that heal
With the guidance of a mental health expert, I have spent the last few months doing a deep dive into my FGM survivor story. I have told and retold my story over dozens of times in public venues. My goal is to break the culture of silence and inspire action. At this point, the telling of my story has almost become mechanized, as though I am reciting a verse from the Quran I memorized as a kid. I would always start with: “I was sitting an anthropology class when a fellow student described her research project on Female Genital Mutilation. And that’s when I had the memory jolt. A memory I had suppressed since childhood came flooding to the foreground.” I go into the details of what happened in granular detail -- the color of the floor, the feelings of confusion and betrayal in the hazy aftermath. And then I go on to talk about the afternoon I confronted my mother about the summer she and my father shipped my brother and off to India to stay with my aunt. The summer it happened. I later found out my aunt cut me without my parents’ consent. In my years of telling and retelling this story, I would have moments I felt nothing, moments I would break down, and moments of relief. It was a mixed bag, often contradictory emotions happening all at once.
When I began to take apart the story, I discovered the core moment where I felt most gutted. It wasn’t the cut itself. It was the aftermath. I remember sitting in a corner alone, feeling confused and ashamed. When I looked at my aunt on the other side of the room, she was whispering to my cousin and they both pointed and laughed at me. Unearthing the moment of shame - the laughter - has haunted me since childhood. The piece that was carved out of me is called “haram ki boti” which translates into sinful flesh. Over time, the physical scar healed. But for many FGM survivors, the psychological wounds remain
Type 4: Stories that reveal
Last year, I decided to take a sabbatical from the Foreign Service. I was burning out on both ends -- I had just completed a really tough assignment in Pakistan and was also doing anti-FGM
advocacy in my personal capacity. When I came home, an acquaintance from graduate school approached me to capture my story on film. As part of the process, she would send a camera
crew to shadow me. Sometimes while giving speeches, other times filming mundane interactions with friends and family. On a visit to my home in Texas, I’ll never forget the moment where my mom told me her story of survival. As part of the film, we went on a roadtrip to Austin to visit the university where I first had the memory jolt. My mom is patiently waiting for the cameraman to set up his tripod. My father is standing next to her.
In the end, we eventually had the conversation I never had the courage to have with either of my parents face to face. Looking them both in the eye, retelling my story with a camera as witness, we discussed how FGM ripped our family apart (specifically my dad’s relationship with his sister). For the first time, I heard my mom talking about her own experience and the feeling of betrayal when she discovered my aunt cut me without her consent. When I later told her that FGM was actually indigenous to the U.S. and Europe and that it was a cure for hysteria (prescribed by doctors) up until the 19th century, my mother exclaimed “that’s crazy to me, this was a cure for hysteria. I’m going to educate other doctors to speak out.” And in that moment, my mother, a survivor who had never shared her story before, became an activist.
My story, intertwined with her story, revealed a tightly woven fabric of resistance. With our voices, we were able to break the cycle of intergenerational structural violence. We were able to rewrite the stories of future generations of girls in our own family and hopefully one day, the world.
This is a woman breaking free from her mundane reality, devoid of color. She dreams in a colorful, "nonsensical" way that people in her life would not understand. She could be considered insane, yet her dreams are more vivid and imaginative than actual life. This is frequently how schizophrenia occurs to me, more engaging and exciting than real life.
Gloria Chicaiza, una activista social y ambiental ecuatoriana, fue una ferviente defensora de la tierra y el agua. Desafió el statu quo, al luchar contra un modelo de desarrollo basado en la extracción, y trabajó incansablemente por la justicia ecológica y los derechos de las comunidades afectadas por la minería.
Gloria participó en las acciones de resistencia para la protección del ecosistema en distintas áreas de Ecuador. Con pasión y dedicación, Gloria apoyó al movimiento indígena y ambiental, a sus comunidades y a las organizaciones que se oponen a los proyectos de minería y protegen sus territorios y sus proyectos de vida colectivos. En foros locales e internacionales, se pronunció contra la criminalización del disenso y la resistencia, contra la presión y la violencia ejercidas contra lxs activistas comunitarixs (y, en particular, contra las defensoras de derechos humanos), y a favor de los esfuerzos comunitarios por la soberanía alimentaria y la sustentabilidad.
Fue Coordinadora del Área de Justicia Minera de Acción Ecológica, participó en la Red Latinoamericana de Mujeres Defensoras de Derechos Sociales y Ambientales, e integró la Junta Directiva del Observatorio de Conflictos Mineros de América Latina (OCMAL).
En 2014 Gloria apoyó la coordinación de una delegación a la Conferencia Internacional sobre Cambio Climático (COP 20) de la ONU. El grupo estuvo integrado por veinticinco mujeres indígenas de América Latina.
Gloria falleció el 28 de diciembre de 2019 por complicaciones de un trasplante de pulmón. Es recordada por su resistencia y su incansable trabajo.
«El camino más rápido para llegar a la sustentabilidad sigue siendo la resistencia.» - Gloria Chicaiza (entrevista de 2010)
«Gracias Glorita, por sostener la esperanza, por mantener el tejido fuerte, por conectar la comunidad, por las manos unidas, por la solidaridad, gracias Glorita por acompañarnos en los momentos más difíciles. Gracias por enseñarnos que, a lo largo de la vida, nadie se cansa.» - Chakana News
«Fue más intrépida, más audaz y más generosa que su cuerpo; ese cuerpo que enfrentó toletes y bombas lacrimógenas, que paseó bajo la cadencia de los tambores y las batucadas, que incubó otra vida, hermosa y digna, como la suya. Haz dejado de toser, querida amiga, pero hoy, más que nunca, tu voz me quema adentro.» - Pablo Ospina Peralta
«Gloria Chicaiza valoraba ser una de muchxs, y así prosperaba. Y, humilde como era, tenía una extraordinaria capacidad para llevar y mantener un ritmo sostenido y estruendoso, un pulso de afirmación de la vida que guiaba, movilizaba e inspiraba a las comunidades y a las redes para la protección de la Madre Tierra. Se oponía a toda forma de violencia contra los cuerpos-territorios. Apoyaba el buen vivir.» - Gabriela Jiménez, Coordinadora de Asociaciones para América Latina, KAIROS
«Gracias Gloria Chicaiza, desde el infinito estamos seguros de que seguirás apoyando nuestra lucha.. Tú, que continuaste acompañándonos en la lucha a pesar de que tu salud fallara. Vivirás en los bosques y en el agua que defendiste con tanta valentía, vivirás en nuestros corazones.» - Comunidad de Intag, Ecuador
Be it core funding, programmes & projects or rapid response/ emergency grants.
CFA 2023 - Intro - FR
« Ma mission dans la vie n'est pas simplement de survivre, mais de prospérer; et de le faire avec un peu de passion, un peu de compassion, un peu d'humour et un peu de style. »
Bienvenue au 15e Forum international de l'AWID!
Le Forum international de l'AWID est à la fois un événement communautaire mondial et un espace de transformation personnelle radicale. Unique en son genre, le Forum rassemble les mouvements féministes, de défense des droits des femmes, de justice de genre, LBTQI+ et leurs allié.e.s dans toute leur diversité et leur humanité, afin qu'elles.ils se connectent, se soignent et s'épanouissent. Le Forum est un lieu où les féministes du Sud et les communautés historiquement marginalisées occupent le devant de la scène, élaborant des stratégies entre elles et avec les mouvements de justice sociale, afin de modifier le pouvoir, de créer des alliances stratégiques et d'ouvrir la voie à un monde différent et meilleur.
Lorsque les gens se rassemblent à l'échelle mondiale, en tant qu'individus et en tant que mouvements, nous générons une force considérable. Rejoignez-nous à Bangkok, en Thaïlande, en 2024. Venez danser, chanter, rêver et vous élever avec nous.
Quand : du 2 au 5 décembre 2024 Où : Bangkok, Thaïlande; et en ligne Qui : Environ 2 500 féministes du monde entier participant en personne, et 3 000 participant virtuellement
Welcome to Crear | Résister | Transform: a festival for feminist movements!
Principles of Engagement
AWID is committed to creating an online space that invites and challenges us all to operate from a place of courage, curiosity, generosity and shared responsibility.
We invite you to co-create spaces with us that are free of harassment and violence, where everyone is respected in their gender identity and expression, race, ability, class, religion, language, ethnicity, age, occupation, type of education, sexuality, body size, and physical appearance. Spaces where we recognize inequalities in our world and strive to transform them in our own interactions with each other.
We want to create a space where ...
we can all be present
This means that we are able to listen, understand and relate to each other. To feel close, in spite of it all being virtual. For this, we will make interpretation available and open channels (like chat and other tools) for you to react and share. To hear each other better, we invite you to wear headphones during the conversation. If it is possible for you , we suggest that you close your email and any other likely source of distraction while you are in the conversation.
all forms of knowledge are valued
Let us celebrate the multiple ways in which knowledge shows up in our lives. We invite you to approach the conversation with curiosity and openness to learn from others, allowing ourselves to unlearn and relearn through the exchange, as a way to start collectively building knowledge.
all of us feel welcome
We are committed to holistically approaching accessibility by being mindful of different physical, language, mental and safety needs. We want a space that is welcoming of folks from various backgrounds, beliefs, abilities and experiences. We will be proactive but we also ask that you communicate your needs with us, and we will do our best within our capacity to address these needs.
all of us feel safe and respected:
We all commit individually and collectively to respect each other’s privacy and to seek people’s consent before sharing any images or content generated during the conversation that involves them.
Creating a safer, respectful and enjoyable environment for the conversations, is everybody's responsibility.
Reporting
If you notice that someone is behaving in a discriminatory or offensive manner, please contact the reference person who will be indicated at the beginning of the session.
Any participants that express oppressive language or images, will be removed from the call and will not be readmitted. We will not engage with them in any way.
Lorena Borjas, femme trans et activiste latino-américaine, travaillait et vivait dans le quartier de Jackson Heights dans le Queens, à New York. Dans ces rues, pendant des années, elle s’est occupée de sa communauté à plaider en faveur des droits des personnes trans et immigrées, soutenir les individus ayant survécu à la traite des êtres humains et à la maltraitance et défendre les droits des travailleures du sexe et des personnes vivant avec le VIH et le sida.
Lorena se battait avec force, sans relâche, afin d’aider, de défendre et de soutenir les personnes les plus marginalisées et discriminées par la transphobie, la misogynie et le racisme.
« Elle nous a poussé·e·s à briller avec authenticité, à devenir le cri subversif qui affirme “ je suis là et je mérite moi aussi d’être heureux·se ” » - Cecilia Gentili, activiste trans et ami·e de Lorena
Ayant elle-même fait face à de nombreux traumatismes et difficultés en tant qu'immigrée transgenre et victime de la traite des êtres humains, Lorena a puisé dans le puits de ses expériences des connaissances et d’une mémoire émotionnelle afin d'aider à construire et à renforcer la communauté dont elle faisait partie, et qui faisait partie d'elle. Pour ce faire, elle a notamment organisé et mobilisé des aides allant de la fourniture de préservatifs à la mise en relation de femmes trans avec différents services, en passant par la création d'une clinique de dépistage du VIH à son propre domicile.
« C’était une si belle âme qui aidait les autres alors que son parcours d’immigrée, et d’immigrée trans, était difficile et douloureux. Elle était convaincue que la communauté trans avait besoin d’amour, d’acceptation et de compassion, et elle a tout donné. » - Luchia Dragosh, superviseuse de production chez QPTV dans le cadre d’un documentaire sur Lorena
En plus de 25 ans d'activisme, elle a également fondé le Fonds communautaire Lorena Borjas avec Chase Strangio (avocat et activiste des droits des trans), qui aide les nombreux·ses membres de sa communauté (et en particulier les personnes trans) confronté·e·s aux problèmes d'immigration à éviter le cycle arrestation-prison-expulsion.
Lorena est décédée en mars 2020 des suites de complications liées à la COVID-19.
Son oeuvre, gigantesque et merveilleuse, sera poursuivie dans les rues du Queens par le réseau et la communauté qu’elle a cocréés.
« Nous reprendrons son travail là où elle l’a laissé, travail essentiel au bien-être de ses “ pajaras ” (oiselles), comme elle aimait appeler les filles trans du Queens qu’elle avait prises sous son aile. » - Cecilia Gentili
Hommages :
« Lorena nous a apporté de la lumière alors que nous vivions une période très sombre ici à New York. Elle nous a apporté sa lumière alors que nous faisions face à l’ ”épidémie de crack ”, à la crise du sida, aux changements dans les politiques d’immigration. » - Cristina Herrera, fondatrice et directrice générale de Translatina Network et amie de Lorena
« Lorena a fait plus que quiconque pour faire la lumière sur l’épidémie de traite dans les communautés transgenres et permettre à d’autres femmes trans d’échapper à l’exploitation. » - Lynly Egyes (a représenté Borjas pour le compte du Transgender Law Center)
«¿Dónde está el dinero para las organizaciones feministas?»
¿Cuánto sabes sobre financiamiento feminista? 📊 Pon a prueba tu conocimiento sobre la movilización de recursos para el financiamiento de la organización feminista, respondiendo al cuestionario "¿Dónde está el dinero?":
Queremos expresar nuestro más sincero agradecimiento a todos los diversos grupos, colectivos y organizaciones feministas de todo el mundo que respondieron a la encuesta WITM. Su participación y sus puntos de vista han sido inestimables y enriquecerán enormemente nuestra comprensión colectiva de los recursos feministas a nivel mundial.
CFA 2023 - Forum Theme - FR
S'élever ensemble : connecter, guérir, prospérer
Le thème du Forum − S'élever ensemble − est une invitation à nous engager avec tout notre être, à nous connecter les un.e.s aux autres de manière ciblée, bienveillante et courageuse, afin que nous puissions sentir le battement de cœur des mouvements mondiaux et nous élever ensemble pour relever les défis de notre époque.
Les mouvements féministes, de défense des droits des femmes, de justice basée sur le genre, LBTQI+ et autres mouvements apparentés du monde entier se trouvent à un tournant décisif, confrontés à un puissant revers/recul sur les droits et libertés précédemment acquis. Ces dernières années ont été marquées par la montée rapide des autoritarismes, la répression violente de la société civile et la criminalisation des femmes et des défenseuses.eurs des droits humains, l'escalade des guerres et des conflits dans de nombreuses régions du monde, la perpétuation des injustices économiques et les crises sanitaires, écologiques et climatiques qui s'entrecroisent.
Nos mouvements sont ébranlés et, en même temps, ils cherchent à construire et à maintenir la force et le courage nécessaires pour le travail à venir. Nous ne pouvons pas faire ce travail seul.e.s, dans nos bulles. La connexion et la guérison sont essentielles pour transformer les déséquilibres de pouvoir persistants et les lignes de faille au sein de nos propres mouvements. Nous devons travailler et élaborer des stratégies de manière interconnectée, afin de pouvoir prospérer ensemble. Le Forum de l'AWID favorise cet ingrédient vital qu'est l'interconnexion dans la pérennité, la croissance et l'influence transformatrice de l'organisation féministe à l'échelle mondiale.
